J. J. Bell

“ Once her kitchen chimney had gone on fire; once she had fallen from the fourth step of the shop ladder along with a package containing a dozen doll's tea-sets. So far Christina's company had meant a good deal of anxiety and some irritation, but it had produced no episodes which could be described as stirring in the mildest meaning of the word.
"Yes," thought the spinster, absently dabbing at the baron with the rusty pen she had picked up, "I do believe it's excitement, even more than exercise, that I require." ”

“ Ye canna taste yin [1] jujube proper. Is the tea no' ready yet?" Christina's speech gained in freedom and clarity as the jujubes dissolved.
"There will be no tea," said Miss Purvis firmly, "for a girl with dirty hands and untidy hair."
"A' richt, auntie. I'll tosh [2] masel' up in twa shakes," said Christina cheerfully, and passed through the glazed and curtained door at the back of the shop.
Miss Purvis groaned as she adjusted the wick of the lamp burning above the counter. Christina was certainly a heavy trial to the gentle—and very genteel—middle-aged spinster. ”

“ Orphaned and quite unprovided for, Christina had been brought from Glasgow six months ago, and ever since then her benefactress had been endeavouring to improve her manners in general, and her grammar and mode of speech in particular. Too frequently she had been driven to despair by the girl's lack of response to her efforts. Miss Purvis, though compelled by circumstances to earn a modest living in a west coast village, belonged to Edinburgh, a fact which she never forgot. ”